


Adaptation

by jhead



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alcohol, Blow Jobs, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kayfabe Compliant, Light BDSM, Movie Reference, Oil, Sex Machines, Sexual Frustration, Strip Tease, Stuttering, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2018-11-29 00:23:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11429316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhead/pseuds/jhead
Summary: Goldust sees the need for Bayley to make a change; for her to unlock her dark potential and turn her own frustrations into success... into gold. He can show her the way, if she just accepts his invitation and gives in to her repressed desires. There's nothing more intoxicating than innocence corrupted, and this could be his greatest work ever.





	1. Foreword By The Director

**Author's Note:**

> Only my second fic, and I've never written character dialogue before, so criticism welcome! Shouldn't be more than a few chapters long. This *will* get explicit.

_\--- SCENE_

 

_"A heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others." -- The Wizard Of Oz, 1939._

 

 _And oh, how they loved_ **_you_** _, Hugger. How full your heart was. The respect of your peers, the adulation of the critics, the love of the Universe… the roar of the crowd. Hmm. Their eyes bright like bulbs, arms and voices raised to the heavens,_ **_wanting_ ** _you to be_ **_their_ ** _girl._

 

 _And how you_ **_needed_ ** _their love, my little starlet; how you embraced it with open arms. Inflated by it, lifted up by it, all the way... to the…_ **_gold_** _. Such courage. Such heart. A true underdog story. A technicolor dream. A wonderful script, indeed._

 

 _But look at you_ **_now_** _, Hugger._

 

**_...Lost_ ** _._

 

_I see it in those darkening, smouldering eyes. In the sadness behind that pretty smile._

 

 _The confusion, the frustration, the want, the_ **_need…_ ** _Tut-tut. So much_ **_pain_** _._

 

 _How quickly their love fades, hmm? How quickly the adoration turns to apathy. I see how it burns deep down inside you. I’ve_ **_been_ ** _there._

 

 _I_ **_tried_ ** _to be ‘good’. Tried to ‘put smiles on people’s faces’. Comic relief. Lowering myself, demeaning my_ **_art_** _. And did it bring me glory? Did it bring me_ **_gold…_ ** _?_

 

 _But_ **_now_** _… I am reborn. Rebooted. Back in the chair. I’m the king of the world._

 

 _Let me_ **_show_ ** _you, Bayley. How to transform your pain. How to unlock the potential only_ **_I_ ** _can see - of your beautiful mind, of your poor wounded soul, and of that… sinful, perfect body._

 

 _I know you’re dying inside, Hugger._ **_Come_** _... with me… if you want to_ **_live_ ** _again._

 

 _Let me be your... ‘Bayley Buddy’. You will become more powerful than you could possibly imagine. Courtesy… hmm… of_ **_Goldust_** _._

 

_Ssssssssssssssahhhhh._

 

_\--- CUT_


	2. Dramatis Personae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goldust prepares to receive a special guest.

God, it was beautiful. Some of his greatest work. It really deserved a wider screening, but… no, this one was for personal viewing only; for himself and one other, special someone.

His face on the screen, looming out of the perfect framing, so rich in contrast. Black and gold, flaring and brilliant before his lens. A few more creases beneath the makeup, yes; time waits for no man, after all. Yet in delivery and tone, in the way his performance leapt from the shot and held the viewer in thrall, and in the tangible power of his words and gaze, he felt every inch The Bizarre One of that most vaunted era again.

The recipient of the message had felt that power, just as he knew she would. He had been inconvenienced in getting it to her, the brutal cold perfection of _digital_ a poor substitute for the warmth of his beloved celluloid, but undeniably more practical and discreet. He had watched with mounting pleasure at the progress of his video being uploaded via private message. The pregnant wait for her reply had been so deliciously filled with possibility. And though he had never truly wavered in the knowledge she would accept his invitation, the jolt of excitement and arousal when his plated smartphone had blazed into life was worth every second of the wait. Her reply had been simple, endearing, and easy to read, much like the sender.

_\-- ok i will be there. B_

He ran his gloved finger over the screen where her name appeared once more, breathing in deeply in anticipation, a smirk playing across his black lips, his body tingling. She would be here soon. She would need some work, some coaxing and some choice words, and no doubt some time with the… _machine_. A lost soul, a bright light in danger of being snuffed out, that he would kindle and carry forth... into the darkness. For what horror can the night truly hold, when you glitter so brightly, like _gold_?

The projector behind Goldust whirred louder, out of film, rousing him from his thoughts. He touched a button on the mahogany table next to him and the screen faded to black, the dim lights in his private viewing room slowly rising to cast ochre shades on the walls. Past shelves of carefully-labelled 35mm film canisters he strode, out into the cavernous hallway, and down past huge portraits of Golden Age gods: Bacall, Gable, Bogart, Astaire, Davis, rendered floor to ceiling in gorgeous black and white.  

He paused at an ornate full-length mirror by the main staircase and regarded himself, as the night rain outside fell in sheets. He knew the power of his physical presence even in the early years of his epoch; now, towering and resplendent in a velveteen robe on top of his signature suit, his makeup framing his eyes and lips in a seductive kabuki-like design, and in the best shape of his life, his was a potent aesthetic - a feast for the eyes.

He allowed himself a smirk of satisfaction. _Here’s looking at you, kid_.

The sound of the door knocker boomed down the hallway. _One_ , _two,_ like gunshots. Goldust turned his head towards the sound, pausing for a moment before slowly proceeding down the hallway towards the main entrance.

The door, a huge oak monolith, creaked open under his touch, the sound of the rain and wind bleeding through the space as his eyes fell upon his guest for the night.

‘Well hello, beautiful,’ he purred.


	3. Crossing The Threshold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bayley and Goldust's 'special' evening begins with hospitality and anticipation.

Bayley stood in the doorway, the headlights from her ride cutting through the rain and framing her outline in gorgeous chiaroscuro. She passed Goldust as he gestured her into the hall, her hands fidgeting with her overnight bag, expression friendly yet apprehensive. 

Her host squinted past the lights from the car as it began to turn away, and blew a dramatic hand-kiss to the driver. Carmella’s outraged response was surely colourful, but he didn't pause to witness it, instead closing the heavy door with final wink and smirk. She did not approve of this whole concept, he had no doubt, yet Bayley had come anyway. An encouraging start.

Turning back to his guest, who was surveying the hallway and staircase, his heart skipped at her figure-hugging strapless short dress, velvet and wine-shaded against her flawless tan skin. Even with her leather jacket on, the generous curves of her body were on full display, as were her incredible legs, so shapely yet strong, right down to her white heels.

'Never seen you quite like this before, at least not in person', he said disarmingly. 'You look ravishing, Miss Bayley.'

'Thank you', she said, sounding bashful as she turned to him. 'It's my lucky dress. You look pretty good yourself.'

Her hair was in its trademark casual ponytail. Raindrops glimmered on her fringe, face and cleavage, like gems under the light. Even with minimal makeup, her beauty caught him off-guard. He cleared his throat. 'I must say, I'm thrilled that you accepted my… invitation. We have quite a lot to talk about, I think.'

‘I tried not to come, I really did’, she said, shaking her head slightly. ‘I don’t know what it is you have in mind, but I have a rough idea-- I mean, I don’t know if I’m what you’re looking for, but…’

‘Oh, tonight is not about me, _chica_ ’, he implored her, closing the distance and taking her bag from her hands. ‘Tonight is all about _you_. What you’ve been through. What you need. What _you’re_ looking for.’

She nodded, gesturing broadly to the opulent hall. ‘You have a beautiful house.’

‘Thank you. I try to spend as much time as I can here - schedule permitting, of course. You know how it is.’ He offered a black towel to her and politely helped her off with her jacket, pausing for a moment to admire the skin of her shoulders and back. ‘...I’ve given the staff the night off, so we won’t be disturbed. You have a room upstairs. I will give you the tour later, if you decide to stay, which... I hope you will.’

She looked over her shoulder at him as she towelled herself, smiling slightly. ‘Carm is staying in town. She wants me to call her if I need to’.

‘That’s good, but I don’t think it will be necessary. Whatever puts you at ease, though. Please.’

She followed his outstretched hand into the study, which was probably his third favourite room in the house. He spent a lot of time here, and the decor reflected that: tables with memorabilia and curios from his storied career; a large vinyl record player, next to his favourite chair; books on psychology, erotica, film history and the craft of movie-making, stacked within rich mahogany cases; a well-stocked drinks cabinet with beautiful crystal glasses; and a roaring fireplace which bathed the vicinity in a red-orange glow, warming the otherwise stark light cutting through the darkness from the window blinds. 

Goldust paused in the doorway as Bayley ventured in, watching her take in the layout of the room, the color and the shape of things. Her curiosity and her apprehension, her vulnerability and trust - it was all so intoxicating. His cock was already stiffening beneath his robe and suit, fingers tingling at the thought of how the night may proceed. And yet he was strangely nervous himself, compelled to please this beauty, to put her at ease, to briefly question the implications of tonight should his… _methods_ prove as sound as always. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind as Bayley brushed her fingers over a large, vintage atlas globe in the corner.

‘Are these all from work?’ she called to him, a tinge of awe in her voice as her fingertips caressed the veritable carpet of pins stuck in the globe.

‘That’s right’, he replied with faint smile. ‘One for every town I’ve performed in.’

‘Wow’, she whispered, turning the globe wistfully. ‘Guess I have a ways to go until I have that much experience, huh?’

‘Not as far as you think, sweetheart.’

She nodded a little, her eyes wandering from Goldust to the globe, to a door in the corner, padded with leather, with no visible handle. Her voice was just a touch unsteady. ‘What’s through there?’

He could almost feel himself vibrating. ‘That comes later.’

She seemed to take that as a cue of sorts, moving from the globe towards the fireplace, where Goldust had prepared two glasses and a bottle or two of his favourite tipples. He followed her in, joining her on the sofa, marvelling at the way the firelight played off her skin, eyes and lips as he sat.

‘Please make yourself comfortable. _Mi casa es su casa_ ’.

Bayley carefully reached down and unstrapped her heels, letting her feet sink into the deep fur rug, long legs stretching. Goldust’s mouth went somewhat dry. He uncorked the bottle, a wonderful vintage that matched Bayley’s dress, and began to pour two glasses.

‘Tell me’, he began with a slight rasp. ‘You said you _tried_ not to come. And… I assume your fabulous friend back there didn’t want you coming either. And yet, here you are. So, Bayley. Why did you come?’

She paused, eyes down, mouth slightly open, as if waiting for the words to fall out. ‘It’s like you said. I’ve been lost. Have been for a while, I guess. Nothing’s working out on Raw the way I hoped, and now even the people…’

He was a patient man. He knew he had to listen, only prodding - directing - as needed.

The night was just beginning.


	4. Stage Directions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bayley pours her heart out to Goldust, who is possessed of some... radical notions for helping her.
> 
> A/N - written out of sequence, will add this soon!

\--- SCENE MISSING ---


	5. The Brutal Art Of Editing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bayley proves a tough nut to crack, but Goldust is dedicated to his craft.

‘...P-Pogo! _POGO!_ ’

Goldust rolled his thumb back over the dial, the buzzing dying down to a low hum. He sucked his teeth. His jumpsuit was unzipped to the waist, revealing his taut torso and arms, and a faint sheen of sweat stood out on his chest as he drew a gloved finger across his sternum. He was in full control, and had been from the start, but briefly had to check his frustration. 

This one was proving tougher than even he had predicted.

‘We’ve been here for over an hour’, he rumbled from the gloom. ‘You can’t go on like this.’

In the centre of the room, strapped in the clutches of the machine, Bayley was naked, panting, quivering. Head hung low, she slowly nodded, trying to regain her composure, shaking beads of sweat and oil loose from her plastered hair. ‘I know’, she gasped. ‘I’m sorry.’ She shifted slightly, as much as she was able. Her perfect breasts, nipples erect and aching, glistened and swayed deliciously as she writhed, though her bonds were tight enough that she was unable to pull herself away from the vibrating head of Goldust’s contraption. It continued to oscillate against her pussy, relatively slowly but still more than enough, he knew, to keep her aroused, taut, on pins and needles. 

He stepped out of the shadows into the light trained on her, and leaned down towards her face. ‘That’s the third time you’ve used your safeword, my little Hugger. You said you wanted help. You _said_ you wanted to unlock your full potential.’ Gently, but firmly, he fisted a handful of her hair and slowly raised her head to lock eyes with her. He drew the words out in a low Southern growl. ‘You’re not a _liar_ , are ya?’

Bayley’s jaw set, her breath coming hard through her nose. ‘Never’, she said.

Goldust released her hair, smoothing it as gently as he could, and drew the back of his glove across her cheek tenderly. ‘Such a magnificent, tragic creature you are’, he whispered. ‘All that strength, but no will to use it.’

‘I told you’, she said, slowly regaining her equilibrium. ‘I just want to use it in the right way--’

‘The _right_ way’, he hissed. ‘There it is again. That’s a pleasant fiction, is it not? We’ve been through this. You’ve been doing it the _right_ way and it hasn’t got you anywhere. Was it _right_ that you refused to use a weapon on that little bitch Bliss when you had every opportunity and reason to? She beat you - a woman half your size, with half your talent, and she pinned and humiliated you, all because you wanted to do the _right_ thing.’ 

He wasn’t shouting, or even raising his voice at all. His words were a weapon, one he wielded with no mercy. The sarcasm and menace in his tone pleased him greatly. Bayley’s eyes were shut, a tear rolling down her shimmering cheek, her lower lip bitten as the machine continued to hum.

‘I don’t know why I couldn’t, I mean I wanted to - I wanted to--’

‘Hurt her?’ Goldust offered.

‘...Yes. I wanted to hurt her, to make her suffer, to do everything she’d done to me, but--’

‘But what?’

‘--I thought I could beat her without hurting her. I’m a _wrestler_. That’s what I’ve always wanted to be, and... that’s what I am, and I want to... be _elite_ in it…’

Goldust breathed. ‘So little ten-year-old Bayley is a Big Girl now and trying her gosh-darn hardest to be a Great Wrestler? Darling, the history books are full of Great Wrestlers who never achieved a damn thing.’ He spread his arms out wide, enjoying his train of thought. ‘You sound just like that shy boy, Zayn, before he had his little powerbomb-induced epiphany.’ 

Bayley’s head drooped a little further, her hands hanging limply in their restraints. ‘Sami…’ she whispered, voice cracking.

‘Beaten pillar to post, loss after loss, booked into oblivion, left on the shelf, all while being just the very _nicest_ person in the business’, Goldust continued liltingly, keeping his bitterness and glee contained as best he could. ‘Meanwhile, his former best friend, who stabbed him in the back, ascends to the top of the industry. Sound like someone you know, hmm?’

A small sob escaped Bayley’s lips. He was on to something.

‘And look at good ol' Sami now. In the main event every night, standing up to corrupt authority figures, having it _his_ way at last. He said it himself, how _amazing_ it feels to just… let it all go. Let go of the past. Let go of the _precious_ WWE Universe. Take control of your career and your destiny. It worked for Sami. And it can work for you too, Bayley.’

‘Sami’s not himself’, Bayley ventured, but the uncertainty in her voice was clear. ‘Kevin’s in his head. He’ll come around, he’ll regret what he’s done and he’ll be his old self again. He wouldn’t want me to be like that. None of them would.’

‘ _Them_ ’, he chuckled. ‘You mean your _friends_? Your _colleagues_? The very ones that have taken advantage of your nature to get ahead at your expense? No indeed, they would _not_ want you to be like Sami, because then you’d be a _threat_. Then you’d be _strong_. Then you’d be a _winner_.’ His face was square with hers again. ‘A **champion**.’

‘I can be better than that.’ Her voice had dropped to a whimper, her eyes avoiding his. ‘...I _am_ better. I just need something... _more_.’

Goldust inhaled and exhaled deeply as he rose to his full height again. He paced slowly around the side of machine, drawing level with Bayley. ‘You really are special, kiddo.’ His tone was lighter now, almost reverent. ‘A pure wrestler, a fierce competitor, with the soul of an innocent.’

Bayley sighed, still twitching. 

Suddenly Goldust leaned close, his black lips almost caressing her earlobe, the rotary control poised under his thumb. 

‘... **Sasha** must have _wept_ when she **made you**.’

Bayley stiffened, her eyes widening, and in that one frozen moment Goldust could glimpse the exquisite depths of her pain, of the repression and resentment bubbling just below the surface of her skin, molten, begging for release.

And then the machine whirred louder, faster, merciless, as her choked orgasm echoed around the empty mansion. 

It was time. 

He had to go deeper.


End file.
